A Quiet Evening
The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of dusky pink and orange, as the crowd finally dispersed from Lara's small kitchen. The chatter and questions had faded, leaving the space in a heavy silence—one that carried a strange kind of comfort.
Lara sighed, pressing her back against the counter as she wiped her hands on a rag. Her head still buzzed with the events of the day: the visitors, Elias's sudden kiss, his words that lingered in her mind like a song she couldn't forget—the woman of my dreams.
"You look lost," Elias's voice broke through, deep and calm.
Lara glanced up to find him standing across the room, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the faint glow of twilight softening the sharp angles of his face. His colorful shirt—greens, reds, and golds—somehow suited him tonight. He looked… alive.
"I'm fine," she murmured, though her cheeks betrayed her, still tinged with red.
"Hmm." Elias stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Well, fine or not, we still have a mess to clean up."
Lara looked around the room, seeing the stack of dishes, the flour dusted across the counter, and stray vegetables scattered near the chopping board. She groaned softly. "I don't even know where to start."
"I do." Elias smirked, already reaching for a clean cloth. "Sit down. I'll take care of it."
"You're going to clean my kitchen?" Lara crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think so."
"I insist." Elias's tone was playful yet firm, and before Lara could argue, he gently guided her toward a stool by the counter. His hands were warm as they briefly touched her arms, and she found herself sitting without protest, watching him with equal parts amusement and curiosity.
Elias moved with quiet efficiency as he tidied up the space. He washed the dishes with practiced ease, the faint splash of water mingling with the distant sounds of evening. There was something intimate about watching him like this—so at ease, so natural. It was a side of him Lara hadn't fully seen before.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring. "What?"
"Nothing." She shook her head, suppressing a smile. "I didn't think you'd be so good at this."
"Cooking, cleaning, surviving." Elias shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. "I've had a lot of practice."
Lara studied him quietly as he worked. The flicker of candlelight from the counter cast a golden glow on his face, softening the sharpness of his features. It was almost unfair, how someone so fierce—so otherworldly—could look so human, so gentle, in moments like this.
When the last plate was dried and put away, Elias turned back to her with a satisfied look. "There. Finished."
He stepped toward her, closing the space between them with deliberate ease. Lara's pulse quickened as he reached behind her, retrieving a small plate from the counter. On it sat a slice of the cake he'd brought earlier, cream still perfectly swirled.
"Your reward," Elias said softly, holding the fork out to her.
Lara blinked, startled. "You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," he said again, his voice low. "Now, open up."
Lara hesitated, cheeks warming under his gaze. But there was something in his expression—a gentleness that broke through her defenses—and she found herself obeying. Slowly, Elias brought the fork to her lips, and she took the bite.
The sweetness of the cake melted on her tongue, but the sensation was nothing compared to the way Elias watched her, his gray eyes darkening with something unspoken.
"Good?" he asked softly.
She nodded, barely able to speak.
Elias smiled faintly, dipping the fork back into the cake. "Another?"
"You're ridiculous," she murmured, but she opened her mouth again.
He fed her slowly, one bite at a time. It was a simple act, but the tension in the room grew thick—like a match waiting to be struck. Every brush of his fingers, every lingering glance, every moment that passed between them made Lara's heart pound harder.
When the cake was gone, Elias set the plate aside. Silence stretched as he stood before her, his figure casting a long shadow in the dimly lit room.
"Lara," he said her name like a whisper, his voice deeper now, rougher.
She looked up at him, unable to tear her gaze away. "What?"
Elias didn't answer. Instead, he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. The calluses on his fingers were rough, but his touch was achingly gentle. Lara sucked in a breath as he tilted her face upward, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone in a slow, deliberate caress.
"Elias…" her voice trembled.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his face inches from hers.
Lara's heart raced, her pulse roaring in her ears. But she didn't say anything. She couldn't.
That was all the permission Elias needed.
He leaned in, capturing her lips with his own. The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters. But then it deepened, and Lara melted against him, her hands gripping his shirt as if to anchor herself.
Elias's arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss turned desperate, burning with a passion neither of them could suppress any longer. His other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to claim her mouth more fully. Lara's skin ignited under his touch, every nerve alive with sensation.
Her breath hitched as Elias broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her jaw to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. "Lara…" he whispered against her skin, her name reverent, as if it was the only word that mattered.
Lara clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his colorful shirt. "Elias…"
The sound of her voice seemed to undo him. He kissed her again, fiercer this time—hungry, demanding, like a man starved. The world outside faded. There was only him—his warmth, his strength, the way he held her like she was something precious.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Elias rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.
"I…" Lara started, but words failed her.
Elias smiled faintly, brushing his thumb over her swollen lips. "You don't have to say anything."
For a moment, they simply stood there, wrapped in the quiet, the air still thick with the remnants of their passion. Outside, the last light of day gave way to night, but in the small kitchen, the glow of the candles flickered softly—warm and steady, like the spark between them.
Elias pressed one final kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat. "Let's stay like this a little longer," he whispered.
And Lara, still wrapped in his arms, couldn't think of a single reason to refuse.